Calling In Gay
by Caseyrocksmore
Summary: "Tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today. Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer." Eventual Kurt/Sam, ensemble.
1. It's Not a Disease

**Title:** Calling In Gay  
**Chapter's Word Count: **2,597  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Character(s):** Kurt, Sam, Mercedes, Tina, ensemble  
**Disclaimer:** I own naught but my own imagination.  
**Author's Notes:** Un Beta'd. Written for this prompt (with some slight alterations) on the Glee_Fluff_Meme: http : / community. livejournal. com/glee_fluff_meme/2832 . html?thread=3056400#t3056400  
**Summary:** "Tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today. Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer."

* * *

"_If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work: 'Hello. Can't work today, still queer!'" - Robin Tyler_

* * *

_**Calling in Gay**_

**Part I: It's Not a Disease**

Kurt had to admit that Figgins had a point about the performance, but threatening _suspension_ over the incident was a little bit much. Okay, so maybe they'd gone a little overboard with the costumes this time, but honestly— it was a number from _Chicago_. How on earth could the principal fault them for having sexy costumes for a rendition of _Cell Block Tango_?

The part that was the most unfair was that Kurt had been singled out: he had been the only boy on stage during the number and was dressed just as provocatively as the girls, which apparently was a problem of some kind. So he sat alone on the hard wooden bench outside of Principal Figgins' office, absently chewing on a thumbnail (such a hard habit to break!) while he listened to the indistinct voices of Figgins and Mr. Schue and waited for the verdict.

He tapped a heel against the tiled floor thoughtfully. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about his costume that had angered the principal so. It wasn't like it was more revealing that the female equivalent; in fact, his outfit showed _far_ less skin than Rachel's and Santana's, and it wasn't like he had any cleavage to show off. So what if the tights were (extremely) tight and the top was _technically_ a corset; it wasn't that much different from what he wore to school during his bolder fashion phases.

Was it?

"_I just don't see what the big deal is!_" Mr. Schue's voice came much clearer through the door than it had been before.

Kurt's attention shifted once again to the closed door to his left, and he subtly moved closer to it and turned his head so that he could hear the conversation better. Mr. Schue was raising his voice; things were bound to get interesting from here on out.

"_William, your Glee Club is becoming far too provocative. I cannot stand for young men in make-up and women's clothes! I have to wonder what kind of effect Mr. Hummel's… _orientation_ is having on the children, and, considering your recent slack judgement, on yourself!_"

Kurt rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and then towards the secretary, who sat at her desk without paying him any attention, despite the fact that he was dressed in a corset and what Santana had dubbed his 'stripper heels.' She had headphones in, he noticed, and couldn't hear what was going on.

_Well, good,_ he thought as he turned his attention back to the door and to Mr. Schuster's half-yell as he defended him. _The less people who hear this crap, the better._

"_...being completely unreasonable! It's not as if Kurt's sexuality is a _disease_—_"

"_There's no proof to say that it isn't!_"

Kurt gasped quietly, his eyes widening a fraction as he swore his heart skipped a beat. Did the principal of his public high school honestly just suggest that his sexual orientation made him some kind of _leper_? He'd heard such idiotic arguments from uneducated bigots (mostly the farm-workers who Burt had subsequently overcharged for their repairs and then banned from _Hummel Tire and Lube_), but from an educator? A man of authority he was supposed to be able to trust? The idea boggled his mind.

The rest of their argument fell on deaf ears as Kurt stared into space, aghast at the information about his dear principal he had gleaned. He _should_ have called his father and informed him of the awful, derogatory remarks so that they could report Figgins to the Board of Education and get him fired— _or something_— but his father was still recovering from a major heart attack and was hardly in any condition to handle the situation.

_No_, Kurt decided. He would have to deal with this himself.

It didn't take him long to figure out what he was going to do to stand up for himself. It would take a lot of guts, and a lot of determination, but he would do it anyway. It was a matter of honour, now. If Figgins thought that homosexuality was a disease, Kurt was just going to have to prove to him that it wasn't.

After only gaining a detention and another preapproved set list for the club to perform thanks to Mr. Schuster's negotiating skills (and the fact that Coach Sylvester hadn't stuck around to see the outcome of her scheming), Kurt went home and did his homework, as was per usual. But instead of dressing himself in a fabulous outfit the next morning, Kurt pulled on a pair of sweatpants that had been deemed lazing-around-the-house-clothes and grabbed the phone.

He coughed a few times to rough up his voice and dialled the number for the school, his heart racing as he heard it ring. The secretary's voice answered calmly, her scripted greeting curt and to the point.

"My name is Kurt Hummel. Please tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today." He wanted to cough dramatically to make a point, but he held off as he listened to the secretary's polite response asking why he would be absent. "Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer." He hung up without letting her say anything.

_Oh boy._

He was going to be in some deep shit for this one, and he knew it.

* * *

He got so many texts throughout the day that he turned off his cell phone, the constant buzzing giving him a migraine. A good portion of them were from Mercedes, but he got several from other Glee Club members asking him why he wasn't at school and even one from Rachel asking if he would be participating in Glee that day or if she could assign his part in the latest number to someone else. He didn't reply to a single one.

He felt sick, truth be told. He knew what he was doing was rather ingenious, but he still felt rather... ill at ease. He was basically skipping school for no reason, and while he knew his grades could handle it, he'd never done anything of the sort before. He thought he'd feel like a rebel; instead, he felt more like the leper Figgins thought he was than ever.

Mercedes and Tina arrived on his doorstep baring chick flicks and ice cream after glee let out— they figured a girls' night was in order, since he was obviously too depressed (or perhaps bedridden) to answer their texts. When they found him safe and sound, he was given a good interrogating. The whole story of Figgins' hurtful comments and his ingenious plan to stand up for himself came out without too much prodding, leaving both girls nearly speechless.

"Let me get this straight, whiteboy," Mercedes said slowly after his rather long-winded, speed-talked explanation. "You weren't at school— because you called in gay?" Her voice was on the verge of laugher, but still somehow managed to sound sympathetic. He hung his head a little and nodded, embarrassed; this was, by far, one of his more bizarre schemes.

"That's genius!" Tina exclaimed after a moment, and Mercedes nodded in agreement. "Though I almost can't believe he said that... even if he _did_ think he was having a private conversation. How can people even _think_ that kind of crap is true?"

Kurt chuckled and shrugged, reaching for Mercedes's copy of _The Ugly Truth_. He could really use their support right now, and he was so glad that he had them back. After the whole "spiritual songs week" debacle, he thought he might have lost his BFF for good, but he should have known something as silly as religion couldn't keep he and Mercedes apart.

After they had gone through two movies and most of a vegetarian pizza, the doorbell rang again. Kurt answered the door almost lazily, expecting it to be Brittany (the other girls said she had suggested that she might drop by), and felt his mouth fall open as he realised who was actually standing on his doorstep.

* * *

Sam shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, trying hard not to notice how hot Kurt looked in his low-slung grey track pants and oversized tee. He shook his head and offered Kurt the thermos he had held in front of him. "Hey. You don't look sick, but I thought you were so I brought you soup..." he trailed off, his eyes stuck on Kurt's usually-meticulously-combed hair, which was instead adorably ruffled as though he had just gotten out of bed.

Kurt accepted the thermos into his delicate hands, his mouth clicking shut audibly. "Thank you," he said stiffly, his gut clenching at how awful he must look. Sam was watching him funny, looking at him differently than he normally did. "But I'm not actually ill, as you may have noticed."

"What's taking so long, Kurt?" Mercedes's voice came over the low sound of the DVD menu playing over and over from the other room. "Did Brittany forget how to take off her shoes again?"

"No, Sadie!" he called over his shoulder before turning back to Sam.

"Er, yeah. Why weren't you in school today, then?"

Kurt let out a breath, offering back the thermos and moving out of the way to let Sam into his house. Sam waved his hand, telling Kurt to keep the soup, and stepped over the threshold carefully, closing the door behind him and toeing off his running shoes.

"I called in sick, because of my terrible disease," Kurt told him seriously. Sam's half-smile turned to a frown in an instant, his eyebrows coming together to meet in the middle and his lips pressing together tightly.

"You have a _disease_?"

"Yes. And it is as of yet undetermined whether or not I am contagious."

Sam unconsciously took a half-step back, as though Kurt's mysterious 'disease' could be caught just by breathing the same air. Kurt smirked, instantly thinking along the lines of, _How far can I push this and still have it be in good fun?_

Kurt forced his smirk to dissipate as he put on a sad front for the ex-quarterback. "I'm terribly ill. Didn't Principal Figgins warn everyone about my horrible affliction?"

"N-no, he didn't," Sam mumbled, his expression stuck halfway between worried and horrified. "Is it... serious?"

"Oh, _yeah_," Kurt exaggerated, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "It might even prove to be deadly. We're not sure yet."

Mercedes and Tina stood just out of sight, holding back fits of giggles as they overheard the conversation. Kurt always had been good at putting on a show, but he wasn't even trying to be a convincing actor and Sam was buying it like Nikes at eighty percent off.

"Well, what is it?" Sam prompted, his eyes almost comically wide. "You can tell me. I'll keep it a secret, I swear." He seemed so earnest that Kurt almost felt bad about putting on this little charade. Almost.

"You probably don't want to hear about it; it's pretty awful. There isn't even any kind of viable treatment option, so I just have to wait it out and see if I get better."

Sam looked sympathetic. "I'm real sorry you're sick, Kurt. Is there anything I can do?"

"Nothing tangible, I'm afraid. But your support is very much appreciated."

It was at this point that Mercedes could no longer hold it in, and her booming laugh escaped her. Tina broke down just seconds later, joining in with high-pitched chortles as Sam caught sight of them and stared, reasonably horrified at their outburst.

"What's going on?"

"Go ahead, Kurt," Mercedes managed to say between laughing with tremendous gusto. "Tell him what you're disease is!"

"Sam, I've... caught _the gay_," Kurt said, Kurt said, failing to suppress a smile and ending up grinning so hard he thought he might break his face in half. "And as of yet, homosexuality is incurable, so I must stay home from school until I rid myself of the queer."

Sam's mouth fell open and he let out a little noise of, "Huh?" as he looked between Kurt and his girlfriends incredulously. After a moment of gaping at them, his head tilted to the side with a look on his face reminiscent of a confused dog, he found his voice in order to splutter, "Seriously? Geez, guys, that's not even funny! I really thought you were sick."

Kurt felt bad, then. Sam looked like a kicked puppy, all sad eyes and pouty lips, and it made his stomach flutter with nervous butterflies. Kurt hugged the warm thermos of soup to his stomach, rocking back on his heels a little.

"I _know_ it's not funny," Kurt protested, his smiled fading faster than it had appeared. "But when I heard Principal Figgins call my sexuality a _disease_, I figured calling in sick because of it was the only way to prove to him that it _isn't_!"

Sam pondered his explanation for a minute before smiling slightly and nodding. "So it's like a protest? That's cool. Can I help?"

Kurt frowned, and the girls stopped laughing in order to look at each other.

"Help how?"

"Well, I'm standing really close to you right now," Sam explained carefully, his facial expression changing to thoughtful. "So if Figgins really believes that being gay is some kind of wacky disease, I have to call in sick, too. They'll have to quarantine us to avoid it spreading."

A smile spread across Mercedes's face as she realised the possibilities. "And us too, Kurt. God knows I just shared a spoon with you to eat rocky road. I've probably already caught the gay!"

Kurt shook his head nervously, looking between Sam and the girls while the nervousness built. "You don't have to do that," he told them seriously. He didn't want them to get in trouble over his stupid scheme. "I wouldn't want you to get detention, or worse, over my little battle against bigotry."

"Of course we have to, Kurt," Tina said quietly, finally speaking up. She'd been thinking it over, and this was just the kind of thing a town like theirs needed. "We're your friends, and what Principal Figgins said is _wrong_. We can't just _let _him get away with this. I'm sure the other kids from glee will agree, too."

"But—"

"No buts!" Mercedes said, clapping Sam on the shoulder and grinning at him. He smiled back, glad to feel included in what was turning out to be an epic plan. "We're staying home tomorrow and calling in gay, too!"

"You can stay home with Kurt tomorrow, but I have to go to school. History test," Tina explained, biting her lip. "But I can go around and tell the others what we're doing so we can all do it by Thursday."

Kurt tried to protest, but when Tina and Mercedes had made up their mind about something, there was no stopping them.


	2. Quarantine

**Title:** Calling In Gay  
**Chapter's Word Count: **2,572  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Character(s):** Kurt, Sam, Mercedes, Tina, Mike, Burt, ensemble  
**Disclaimer:** I own naught but my own imagination.  
**Author's Notes:**Un beta'd. Written for this prompt (with some slight alterations) on the Glee_Fluff_Meme: http : / community. livejournal. com/glee_fluff_meme/2832 . html?thread=3056400#t3056400 .  
**For all intensive purposes, this story is officially (as of now) set after the events of the **_**Rocky Horror Glee Show**_** and is AU from there, completely disregarding any future episodes and spoilers about future episodes.  
**Also, I'm sorry I took so long to write and post this— I had appendicitis and had to have surgery (long recovery time, too) and I have an impulsive need to read and re-read everything I submit since I edit my own work.  
**Summary:**"Tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today. Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer."

* * *

"_If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work: 'Hello. Can't work today, still queer!'" - Robin Tyler_

* * *

_**Calling in Gay**_

**Part II: Quarantine**

Mercedes stayed the night, and for once, Burt didn't give an ounce of protest. His son had called in sick even though he obviously wasn't, but he had let it slide by— Burt had skipped school a few times (read: dozens) when he was Kurt's age and he was no worse for wear because of it. Kurt wasn't usually the type to ditch, which clearly indicated to Burt that his son was in some kind of distress, whether it be physical or emotional, but he was far too tired to go about finding out what it was— he trusted Mercedes to do right by his kid, and if that meant having a sleepover, then so be it. Besides, he didn't want to seem intrusive.

But the next morning when Mercedes said that they, Tina and a boy named Sam would be calling in sick to protest homophobia in the school system, Burt was more than a little confused.

"Principal Figgins basically called my sexuality a disease," Kurt explained quietly, for all intensive purposes looking like he was talking to his plate of scrambled eggs.

"He said _what_?" Burt said almost darkly, his brain already filling with ways to get the principal fired from his position. "This is an outrage!" A lot of the ideas were quite violent and instantly not an option, but they were fun to visualise in the meantime.

"This is why I didn't want to tell him," Kurt muttered, glaring at his best friend from under his eyelashes as he poked at his rapidly cooling breakfast.

"There's no need to overreact, Mr. H.," Mercedes cut in quickly, interrupting his following "_But—!_" as well. "We are fighting back, and this time, we don't need your help to do it." She looked to Kurt for assistance as Burt stared at her with his jaw tightly squared.

"This is something we want to do. And we have to do it on our own if it's going to make any impact at all," Kurt spoke up, abandoning the untouched protein on his plate. He looked his father squarely in the eyes. "We're going to prove him wrong."

Burt looked between the two determined young faces and scratched his chin. It was unconventional. It was _unbelievably_ foolish. And the two were delusional if they thought that their little scheme would have any impact beyond their small community, if it had any at all. He sighed and gave the pair a consenting shrug.

Permission to use the Hummel basement as a hideout for the protesting teenagers had been given.

* * *

"My name is Mercedes Jones, and I'm in Mr. Wilson's homeroom. I'll be absent from school today. Yeah, you see, I shared a spoon with Kurt yesterday— Kurt Hummel, that is— and I'm putting myself under quarantine until I can determine whether or not I've caught _the gay _from him. Of course I'm serious. Just tell Principal Figgins that I might have caught _the gay_ from Kurt. He'll understand. Thanks. Bye!"

* * *

Tina marched proudly down the hallway to her first-period class, her head held high as the hallway teeming with hurrying students seemed to clear before her, her peers parting to let her pass. She could already hear the whispers, the snickers, and see the worried glances— she smiled behind her thin paper mask, holding her books a little higher against her chest. It was good to be different.

Ms. Atkins pulled her aside before the bell to ask her if she was alright to write the test— she could postpone if Tina was seriously ill— but Tina waved off her concern and told her the real message behind her new accessory. It was a statement against bigotry, and she was going to wear the paper mask all day to prevent spreading the disease that Principal Figgins claimed that Kurt possessed. Ms. Atkins was both intrigued and rather proud. She was one of the few teachers who could appreciate the sentiment of standing up for a friend, and smiled when she handed Tina her test.

Her other teachers were not so warm to her statement, and Tina was convinced that her Civics teacher didn't even notice she was wearing a hospital mask to class because he was so senile (how he was fit to be a teacher at all went way over her head), but Tina was happy to have at least one teacher's support. And surely Mr. Schuster would be supportive when he heard about their plan, too.

"Tina, is there something I should know about?" Mike asked her seriously the first time he saw her in the mask. It was lunchtime, and he looked nervous to be around her. She quietly laughed and led him to a quiet table near the back of the cafeteria once they'd grabbed their trays and piled them with the mediocre lunch selection.

"I spent yesterday at Kurt's house," she told him seriously, eying her sloppy-joe and trying to determine whether or not is was edible enough to warrant taking off her mask and eating it. "And he told me that Principal Figgins called being gay a disease."

Mike frowned, his eyebrows coming together as he swallowed a mouthful of the slop they passed off as food. "That's uncool."

Tina nodded, and pushed her tray towards him as she stole his apple juice box and tucked the straw under her mask so that she could drink out of it. "It is uncool. And that's why he, Mercedes and I are going to put a stop to it. We're protesting Figgins' homophobia by making it clear how unreasonable and deplorable his statement was. Hence the mask. I wouldn't want to accidently give you _the gay_, after all."

Mike laughed and took his juice box back, drinking from it. "Oops," he said, opening his eyes wide in an exaggerating manner. "I think I just caught it from you!" He laughed and shook his head. "Kurt's a cool dude, and he doesn't deserve all the crap he gets. How can I help?"

"Stand up with me at Glee to spread the word, and maybe ditch school with me tomorrow? I'm calling in sick so I can quarantine myself from the general population."

Mike nodded, taking her sloppy-joe and taking a large bite out of it. "I'm in."

* * *

Kurt and Mercedes spent the morning watching a marathon of _Harry Potter_ movies, but only got part way through the third before they decided to call it quits and gave each other manicures instead. Kurt's nails were buffed and lightly clear-coated, his nail beds superbly cleaned and his cuticles flawless. Mercedes had chosen to have her own nails coated in bright fuchsia polish that complimented her skin tone, even though Kurt claimed it was a hideous colour that should be banned from production.

Sam showed up just after noon with an armful of snacks and multiplayer Nintendo WII games. He was welcomed into the Hummel basement, where they set up the gaming console in front of Kurt's television and sat down to try to entertain themselves.

"I almost want to text Tina to bring us our homework, I'm so bored," Kurt complained only half-seriously an hour later, passing his controller over to Mercedes so that she could face Sam in another round of _MarioKart_ and lounging back against the arm of the sofa.

"Quinn is bringing mine for me so I don't fall behind," Sam admitted as he moved his own controller wildly, trying to stop his little car from going off the edge of a cliff. He failed, and groaned as Mercedes's car passed his car while it was slowly being carried back up to the track.

"So white girl _does_ know you're here, then?" Mercedes asked, frowning as her car spun out wildly.

Sam shrugged, biting his lip as he fought to regain some of the lead Mercedes had gotten on him. "Not technically," he said after a moment, "She knows I'm out sick 'cause that's what my mom told her. I'll explain the whole thing to her after school. She'll probably want to join us."

Mercedes snorted as her car glided smoothly over the finish line and she turned to face him properly. "Quinn hasn't given us the time of day since she became Head Cheerio again."

Kurt sat up from his lounging position against the edge of the couch. "She barely talks to me in Glee anymore, and only talks to me at Cheerio's practice to bark at me about my awful cartwheels," he agreed.

Sam frowned, admitted defeat at the game by tossing down his controller next to Mercedes's discarded one. "That doesn't really sound like Quinn. I thought you guys were friends."

Mercedes and Kurt shared a look between them and then turned back to Sam with identical shrugs.

"Quinn's the HBIC now," Kurt tried to explain, and sighed when Sam's confused expression only grew more prominent. "She's the Head Bitch in Charge, and she's back to the top of the not-so-proverbial pyramid. Now that she's got her reputation back, she doesn't need us anymore. It's simple high school hierarchy."

Sam shook his head and flipped back his Bieber-haircut. "But Quinn's nice and stuff. She wouldn't just drop you guys over something like that."

Mercedes chuckled, reaching for the healthy snacks Kurt had set out and grabbing a pretzel. "Well, she did. And white girl isn't on my top ten favourite people list because of it." She chewed for a moment and then again at Sam's slightly stunned expression. "I'm sure she's nice to you. She probably really likes you, considering she's letting you in when she doesn't really need boyfriend stress so soon after Babygate. It doesn't mean that I can't be mad at her for ditching us once she got her popularity back."

Sam took a pretzel for himself and leaned back against the couch, looking deep in thought as he munched on the snack-food. He glanced at Kurt when the countertenor got up to refill their drinks like the excellent host he was, and wondered if maybe they were right about his girlfriend. He really hadn't known her that long... but she'd always been so nice to _him,_ it hadn't really occurred to him that she could be so cruel elsewhere.

If one word could be used to describe Sam Evans, it would be loyal. It was unfathomable to him that Quinn could drop her friends (the people who had supported her in her time of need, if he understood correctly) over something as trivial as a spot on the cheerleading squad.

He was still munching quietly at his pretzel when Kurt came back and offered to put on the fourth _Harry Potter_ film.

* * *

"Mr. Schue, may I have the floor for a moment?"

Will looked up from his sheet music and stared blankly at Tina for a second, his face slightly shocked to see her in a paper hospital mask. She wasn't in his Spanish class this semester, and he hadn't run into her all day, so her appearance was a complete surprise.

"Tina, are you alright?" he asked once he'd recovered from his momentary shock.

"I'll be fine, Mr. Schue. Mike and I have an announcement to make."

The rest of the Glee Club had settled into their fairly-regular seats, save for the absent Kurt, Mercedes and Sam. They watched the exchange with intrigue, most of them also slightly stunned at Tina's new accessory.

"Sure. The floor is yours," Will agreed, waving them forward and taking a step back so he could lean against the piano. Mike shyly followed Tina's example and walked to the centre of the room, standing closely behind her as she addressed the diminished group.

"As you may have noticed, Kurt and Mercedes aren't here," she started rather confidently, gesturing to the multitude of empty seats. "And neither is Sam."

Quinn looked up from where she had been examining her fingernails. What did Sam have to do with anything? She narrowed her eyes. What did Tina know that she didn't?

"Are you all sick?" Finn interrupted rather indignantly. If Kurt was sick, he should have been informed by Burt and his mother. He was upset by the idea that one of his soon-to-be-family members could very well be in the hospital, like the Burt incident all over again.

"Only if you have the same beliefs as our principal," Tina answered Finn's question cryptically. She was almost giddy with excitement, and reached down to take Mike's hand behind her back. He squeezed her fingers gently in encouragement. "You see, he has come to the conclusion that homosexuality is a disease."

Rachel's irate shriek of, "_What?_" drowned out the only slightly-angry protests of the others.

Will leapt into action and began trying to hush the kids so that Tina and Mike could finish what they were saying. He put his hand on Rachel's shoulder and she cut off her own tyrant of livid comments when he did so. The room fell silent again.

"Kurt overheard Principal Figgins saying that he thought Kurt's sexuality was a disease to Mr. Schue after the _Cell Block Tango_ thing," Tina continued gravely, and when the singers turned to their teacher for confirmation, he gave them a minute nod.

"That's not cool, dude," Puck said after a half-second of silence. "Figgins is wacked in the head."

"We're doing a protest, to prove him wrong," Mike spoke up not a second later, regaining everyone's attention. "Kurt called in sick yesterday, because he quote '_caught the gay,_' unquote."

"Mercedes and Sam called in sick today along with him, and I am wearing this mask—" Tina tapped the mask gently. "—to quarantine ourselves because we have been in contact with him, and may have '_caught the gay_' ourselves."

"That's ridiculous," Rachel huffed. "You can't catch someone's sexuality!"

"_Exactly_," Tina stressed, looking excited again. "That's the point. We're going to prove how stupid and homophobic Principal Figgins is being by calling in gay in protest. If he thinks it's a disease, we'll act like it's a disease. Quarantine ourselves. Mike and I will be joining Kurt, Mercedes and Sam tomorrow. Can we count on any of you for support?" She looked around at the stunned faces of her teammates hopefully.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Rachel stood up from her chair, tucked her hair behind her ears and declared, "My two gay fathers kissed me goodbye this morning. I must be quarantined."

Finn stood and placed his hands on Rachel's waist. "I ate dinner with Kurt and his dad on Friday. I've probably... uh... 'caught' it too."

Brittany jumped to her feet and clapped her hands excitedly. "Santana and I made out yesterday. I must've caught the gay from Kurt, too, back when I made out with him!" She grinned down at Santana and extended her pinkie excitedly; Santana begrudgingly stood and linked their fingers.

Puck and Quinn both stayed notably seated as their friends stood up around them (or in Artie's case, raised his hand and said he would participate), but Mr. Schuster smiled faintly anyway as he watched his kids rally for something they believed in. He was proud of them; after all, he knew Quinn and Puck, and they'd both come around. Eventually.


	3. Baby Steps

**Title:** Calling In Gay  
**Chapter's Word Count: **2,935  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Character(s):** Kurt, Sam, Tina, Mike, ensemble  
**Disclaimer:** I own naught but my own imagination.  
**Author's Notes: **Un beta'd. Written for this prompt (with some slight alterations) on the Glee_Fluff_Meme: http : / community. livejournal. com/glee_fluff_meme/2832 . html?thread=3056400#t3056400 .  
For all intensive purposes, this story is officially (as of now) set after the events of the _Rocky Horror Glee Show_ and is AU from there, completely disregarding any future episodes and spoilers about future episodes.**  
**Also, sorry for the (huge) delay; I got writers block, and am just now getting back into the grove. Hopefully it won't happen again! The song in this chapter is _Drops of Jupiter_ by _Train_.  
**Summary: **"Tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today. Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer."

* * *

"_If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work: 'Hello. Can't work today, still queer!'" - Robin Tyler_

* * *

_**Calling in Gay**_

**Part III: Baby Steps**

Tina made sure to march right past Figgins' office on her way out, noting his frazzled look as he talked to his angry secretary. A smile crossed her face as she came up with an idea; it was the kind of smile Mike knew was trouble, but he couldn't help but have the corners of his own lips turn up as well when he saw it.

"What're you thinking, Tee?" he asked quietly as she stopped in front of the glass entry. She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Just play along," she told her boyfriend seriously, re-donning the hospital mask she had removed during Glee Club and striding confidently into the office.

"Principal Figgins!" she greeted mock-warmly as Mike followed her cautiously. He trusted his girl, but she had one hell of a mind for scheming. "Are you alright? You look _distressed_." She stressed the word and drew it out almost facetiously.

Principal Figgins did a double-take almost comically fast when he saw who was talking to him and what she was wearing; her wardrobe remained unchanged in its Gothicism, and the pale green paper mask was in stark contrast to the rest of her dark appearance.

"Ms. Cohen-Chang," he said with a fake-sounding cough, drawing himself up to his full height and regaining his composure. "May I help you?"

Mike could tell Tina was smiling by the way the corners of her eyes crinkled, but he knew her much better than their principal did. "Actually, yes. I won't be here tomorrow, since I'm going into quarantine, but I would really appreciate it if you could find someone healthier to bring me my homework while I'm away," Tina supplied easily. It was almost scary how fast she could come up with a good lie.

Figgins looked uneasy. "What about you, Mr. Chang? Sure you could—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I won't be here, either," Mike apologised quickly and with earnest. "I'll have to be put in quarantine right away as well, considering the contact I've had with Tina."

"Oh, well, of course," Figgins agreed, bobbing his head like the little toy dog Tina's dad kept on his dashboard. "What exactly is...?"

"I hugged Kurt yesterday," Tina told him seriously, the traces of mirth in her eyes gone in an instant. "And he only informed me of his condition afterwards. I wouldn't want to spread the queer around McKinley, after all."

Figgins paled, and his secretary gave a loud sigh and a pointed glare at the principal before she returned to her desk.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever—!"

"But wasn't you who said homosexuality was a disease that might be influencing the Glee Club, sir?" Tina asked innocently, cutting him off. Figgins didn't protest, but instead glared at her defiantly. "And besides," she continued, smirking behind her mask, "Homosexuals are adored and worshiped in ancient Asian vampire clans, so we've most definitely been exposed."

If it was possible for Figgins' dark skin to lighten any further, it would have. All the blood drained from his face and he looked positively ill as he glanced back and forth between Tina and Mike, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. "I— oh— I mean—" he stuttered, seemingly flabbergasted.

"Thank you for your time, sir," Tina finished. The crinkles were back in the corners of her eyes as she grabbed Mike's hand and led him out of the school. He broke down laughing just outside the doors, and Tina joined him as she pulled off her mask.

"You're a genius," Mike gasped, holding onto his aching sides as they laughed their way to his car. "Asian vampire clans? Really?"

"_Ancient_ Asian vampire clans," Tina corrected, smiling at him as he opened the passenger seat door of his car for her. "Hey, it worked once. Maybe we can scare him into submission."

* * *

Kurt pressed a hand over his mouth, trying to retain his laughter while behind him Mercedes was hysterical.

"And he _believed _you?" Sam asked, sounding awed as he stared at Mike and Tina, who had just finished telling their epic tale of deception in Figgins' office.

Tina nodded and laughed maniacally, giving her boyfriend a high-five. "Absolutely! I surprised he didn't pee his pants, to be honest."

"It was epic," Mike agreed, putting an arm around Tina's shoulders and pulling her close to his side. "You should have seen his face."

Kurt finally let his laugh out, practically in hysterics over the mental image of Figgins cowering away from the scary Asian vampires. The doorbell sounded a moment later, and he waved off his friends as he hurried up the stairs to answer it. Finn and Rachel were on his doorstep, Finn looking awkward and carrying a box and Rachel grinning while holding an assortment of vegan treats she had made to share with the group.

"I brought healthy snacks and my karaoke machine," she said helpfully.

Kurt smiled at her enthusiasm and directed her towards the basement, raising an eyebrow at Finn. "You don't have to knock anymore, you know. You and your mom practically live here already, and you have a key. I think that means you're allowed to let yourself in."

Finn shrugged with one shoulder and lifted the box (no doubt containing a karaoke machine complete with bedazzled pink microphones) more securely against his hip. "I just wanted to make sure we were cool again, and stuff."

Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes, nodding. "We're cool, Finn."

They headed down to the basement to join the others and set up the karaoke machine; they were a group of performers, first and foremost, and everyone was pretty enthusiastic about Rachel's contribution to their fight against bigotry.

* * *

Santana and Brittany showed up after dinner, while most of the Glee Clubbers were already in a heated karaoke battle. Sam was the one who got up to let them in (as Kurt was in the middle of a show tune medley with Rachel), and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that Quinn wasn't with them when he opened the door. Not that he expected much after her single, scathing text he had gotten from her after school. She was obviously angry at him for participating in the protest, even if he wasn't sure why.

Sam sunk down into one of the many chairs Kurt and Mike had carried down from upstairs to facilitate their little protest-party, pulling his phone from his pocket and contemplating calling his girlfriend. He'd texted her several times already, and she had yet to text him back. None of his texts had been apologies for standing up for Kurt. Maybe that was why she wasn't responding.

He must have been staring at the screen for longer than he thought because he was startled when Kurt plopped into the chair beside him gracefully, his face flushed from singing and dancing with Rachel to whatever _Wicked_ song they had been singing. "Are you okay?" Kurt asked him, popping the tab on a can of Diet Coke and taking a long drink. "You've been sitting by yourself for a while."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Sam said, not sure if he was lying or not. He casually put his phone back in the front pocket of his red WMHS hoodie and smiled at his friend. The Quinn thing didn't matter right now. What mattered right now was standing up for his friend, and for what he believed in. If she couldn't handle that, then she wasn't the person he thought she was. "I'm just tired of all this bull, y'know? Figgins should just give up now and apologise for what he said."

Kurt nodded slowly, rolling his soda can back and forth between his palms. "I can't believe it's gotten this far, honestly. I didn't expect anyone to care enough to join me. It was just going to be a '_me' _thing, and then it turned into an '_us'_ thing, and I don't know what to think."

"'_You don't have to be gay to be a supporter_,'" Sam quoted, smiling softly, "'_You just have to be human._'"

Kurt smiled thoughtfully. "Where's that from?" he asked, emptying the can of soda in one last swallow before tossing the can skilfully across the room and into the recycling bin he'd put there for just that purpose.

"Daniel Radcliffe," Sam admitted. "He's been my hero for, like, ever. I always wanted to be him. He's so cool and confident, and Harry Potter is the bomb."

A laugh escaped Kurt, and he looked genuinely surprised at Sam's honesty. "I love Harry Potter," he admitted. "I've read the seventh book like ten times since it came out. And I wore out my _Philosopher's Stone_ from reading it too much, so my dad had to buy me a new copy."

"Sam!"

Sam looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes locking onto Rachel, who was gesturing at him with a sparkly pink microphone from her karaoke machine. "It's your turn!" she declared excitedly, "You're the only one who hasn't sung yet!"

Finn and Mike whooped encouragingly while the girls egged him on. Sam bit his lip and looked at Kurt, smiling at him expectantly. "Do you want to sing with me? We never did get that duet, after all."

Kurt blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open a little. "Seriously?" he squeaked, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs. Sam nodded enthusiastically, grabbing Kurt by the hand and pulling him out of his seat.

"Yeah! Come on dude, it'll be fun!"

Not even protesting to being called 'dude,' Kurt followed Sam up to the front of the room and began riffling through the song selections, a distinct pink tint across his pale cheeks.

"Can we sing _Drops of Jupiter_? I love that song," Sam gushed, pointing out the song number on the back of the info card. Most of Rachel's song selection was show tunes and musical soundtracks that he'd never seen (or even heard of), but she did have a Greatest Hits album that looked interesting. And he's always liked _Train_. Kurt nodded at his song selection and set up the machine, smiling faintly along with the opening beats. Santana catcalled at them when they picked up the mics and stood in front of the group, which did nothing but make his blush deepen as he nodded along to the beat of the heavy opening piano notes.

He gestured for Sam to take the first verse, which he did happily, bringing the ridiculous mic to his lips and starting the well-known lyrics. "_Now that she's back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey-eh-eh_," he crooned, the song well suited to his smooth tenor. "_She acts like summer and she walks like rain, reminds me that there's time to change, hey-eh-eh._"

He nodded to Kurt, who sang the next lines delicately, his voice much higher and clearer than Sam's, uniquely beautiful. "_Since her return from her stay on the moon, she listens like spring and she talks like June, hey-eh-eh. Hey-eh-eh._"

They went into the chorus together, their voices meshing over the slightly-tinny background music from Rachel's machine. "_Tell me_," Sam started, and Kurt joined him on the next lyric as they harmonized, "_Did you sail across the Sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that Heaven is overrated?_"

"_Tell me_," Kurt sang this time, "_Did you fall for a shooting star?_" they sang together as the Glee Club cheered them on, some of them dancing and mouthing along to the hit. "_One without a permanent scar, and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_"

They clapped together through the instrumental section, while Finn excitedly pretended to drum along with the song on the back of the couch by using his index fingers as drumsticks. Sam and Kurt's eyes locked on each other, and it was impossible to tell who was having more fun. Kurt looked thrilled, his mouth half-open in an adorable smile that didn't show any teeth, and Sam couldn't have been happier for him, finally getting a chance to sing with a guy. They sounded great, and there was no one judging them for singing together. They were safe here. Sam bowed slightly and gestured with his mic for Kurt to take the next bit.

"_Now that she's back from that soul vacation, tracing her way through the constellations, hey-eh-eh_," he sang joyfully, dancing along to the catchy tune.

Sam added a soulful, "_Hmmm-mmm_," at the sing point in the music and Kurt laughed, almost missing his next line.

"_She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo, reminds me that there's room to grow, hey-eh-eh,_" Kurt managed to sing without giggling through it, even though he was on the verge of laughter anyway and the line itself was kind of ridiculous. He pointed at Sam with his microphone, and Sam brought his own back to his lips just in time to catch the next line.

"_Now that she's back in the atmosphere, I'm afraid she might think of me as—_" He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the fast part, "_—plain old Jane told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly so he never did land!_"

"_Oh, tell me_," Sam practically yelled, really getting into it as Kurt joined him again, "_Did the wind sweep you off your feet?_ _Did you finally get a chance to dance along the light of day, and head back to the Milky Way?_"

"_Tell me_," Kurt countered just as strongly, his voice slipping into a slightly lower register than he usually sung at, "_Did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find?_"

Sam stepped closer to Kurt as they sung together, looking into Kurt's eyes so that he could sing to Kurt, rather than to their friends, "_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_"

"_Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken? Your best friend always sticking up for you,_" Sam sang, refusing to look anywhere but at Kurt as he sung a line he knew Kurt could relate to, especially now. "_Even when I know you're wrong._"

"_Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance, five-hour phone conversation_," Kurt sang right back, meeting his eyes and not looking away. "_The best soy latte you ever had, and me._"

"_But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?_" Sam asked, getting up in Kurt's personal space. "_Did you finally get a chance to dance along the light of day, and head back to the Milky Way?_"

"_Tell me, did you sail across the Sun?_" Kurt sang right back, his voice wavering just the slightest bit. Sam joined him to make it stronger, "_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded? And that Heaven is overrated?_"

"_Tell me_," they sang together, one tenor and one countertenor, as everything else faded way but their voices and tinny background music. "_Did you fall from a shooting star? One without a permanent scar and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?_"

Kurt literally jumped when the others joined in to sing the, "_Nah, nah, nah,_" part with them. He's almost forgotten they had an audience, but caught himself before he did anything stupid like skip a note or choke on his tongue.

"_Did you get the chance to dance along the light of day?_" Sam sang over them at the right time as they continued their harmonizing, "_Nah, nah, nah_," part.

"_And did you fall from a shooting star?_" Kurt sang.

"_Fall from a shooting star?_" Sam echoed, reaching out to swing a friendly arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"_And now you're lonely, looking for yourself out there_," they sang together, the music fading behind them. Kurt's tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his dry lips, and Sam found his eyes unconsciously following the movement. Kurt was flushed and his cheeks rubicund from their animated improvised dancing during the number.

"That was great, guys!" Tina said excitedly, breaking the moment. Kurt stepped out from under Sam's arm, which fell awkwardly to his side as he handed off his mic to Rachel.

"Thanks," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment. He had had fun singing with Kurt. More fun than he could remember having had in a while. He had found himself forgetting he had a girlfriend and almost wanting to just lean down and—

But he _did_ have a girlfriend. He had a great girlfriend, who was beautiful and a cheerleader and everything he had ever wanted. He guiltily snuck into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. As nice as dueting with Kurt was, he had to remember Quinn. She was his girlfriend, and she deserved better than a boyfriend who had almost thought about cheating on her.

When he went back into the basement living room, Finn and Rachel were singing a ballad he didn't recognise, and he was pretty sure Finn didn't know either, if the way he was reading the lyrics word-by-word was any indication. Rachel seemed into it, though.

Sam plastered on an energetic smile and silently promised himself he'd call Quinn when he got home to apologise for not telling her that he was faking sick with Kurt. She was probably just mad at him for implying he was really sick when they had texted that morning.


	4. Hang Ups

**Title:** Calling In Gay  
**Chapter's Word Count: **2,196  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Character(s):** Kurt, Sam, Rachel, ensemble  
**Disclaimer:** I own naught but my own imagination.  
**Author's Notes: **Un beta'd. Written for this prompt (with some slight alterations) on the Glee_Fluff_Meme: http : / community. livejournal. com/glee_fluff_meme/2832 . html?thread=3056400#t3056400 .  
For all intensive purposes, this story is officially (as of now) set after the events of the _Rocky Horror Glee Show_ and is AU from there, completely disregarding any future episodes and spoilers about future episodes.  
This chapter is really heavy in dialogue. Sorry. It'll get better, I promise.**  
Summary: **"Tell Principal Figgins I'm sorry, but I can't come to school today. Oh, you know, I'm horribly ill— don't worry; I'll come back as soon as I cure the queer."

* * *

"_If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work: 'Hello. Can't work today, still queer!'" - Robin Tyler_

* * *

_**Calling in Gay**_

**Part IV: Hang Ups**

Rachel pulled Kurt aside as everyone said their farewells and donned their coats in the foyer, her wide grin lighting up her whole face. "Kurt," she said almost breathlessly as she yanked him into the kitchen by his sleeve, giddy from her own epiphany. "We need to get other people in on this."

He raised an eyebrow delicately, his expression one Mercedes had long ago labelled his '_bitch-please_' look. "_Other_ _people_ have no interest vested in our little protest," he told her quietly, the sounds of their leaving friends loud in the next room over. "You and I are the only ones who even know firsthand what we're even fighting for. Our friends supporting this are more than I could have asked for."

"But this could be huge, Kurt— don't you see? All we have to do is get the word out, and let the kids from our school know what we're doing and why. It's so simple. There have got to be others in our school— allies, or... or gay kids in the closet. It's statistically impossible for there _not_ to be!" Rachel gushed, trying to keep her squealing to a minimum. She could see it now: their names in lights, fighting for gay rights in a conservative little town. Everyone would know their names, their faces, as those who stood up for what was right.

Kurt didn't look impressed. "I never intended for it to even get _this_ big," he protested quietly but vehemently, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched it tight around his words. "It was only ever supposed to be me. You could all get in trouble for this. I don't want to be responsible for all of you getting expelled, let _alone_ anyone else!"

Rachel shook her head. "But, Kurt, you don't get it, do you? They can't expel us. Unless he admits he made a mistake in what he said, we aren't doing anything wrong. All we need to do is spread the word, and—"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Kurt cut her off sharply, barely able to contain his almost naturally facetious tone. "Are you going to make posters and put them up around school?" He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as Rachel threw back her shoulders, unperturbed.

"No," she said, shaking her head and placing her hands on her slim hips, "I propose we voluntarily interview for Jacob Ben Israel's blog."

Kurt's mouth fell open for a moment, and then he snapped it closed. "Are you _insane_?" he hissed, already fed up with his friend's antics, "Israel doesn't print legitimate stories. His blog is a black hole of old gossip and wrongful accusations. He had a whole entry dedicated to his theory of why Puck must be secretly sleeping with me along every girl in Glee, remember?" Kurt glared down at her, once again enjoying his recent growth spurt. He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "He prints trash, Rachel. Not news."

"Trash or not, the students of McKinley _follow_that blog and_ read_ his hogwash. It is the absolute _perfect_ way to get the word out to the masses, don't you see? Don't you want this to _work_?" Rachel said quickly, as though her whole spiel was a pre-planned speech.

"Work towards what exactly, Rachel? A public apology? This isn't anyone's fight but mine. If you guys want to help me, then fine. But you can drop out of this at any time, while I _can't_. I'm the one that's being called a leper because of who I am. Not you, not Mercedes, not Finn."

Kurt sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Rachel pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, but didn't say a word as Kurt collected himself.

"I get that you want to help. I'm sure you and your dads have to deal with this crap too, maybe even more so sometimes. But trying to... recruit? Is just going to leave you disappointed. No one else cares." He paused again, resignedly shaking his head. "You can't drag the rest of the student body into this. I hate to ruin what little faith in humanity you still possess, but that is just the way it is."

Rachel shook her head, biting roughly down on the inside of her cheek. "You're wrong, Kurt."

"I'm _not_."

"Well, then." Rachel smoothed her hands over her hideous plaid skirt and wrapped her arms around herself once more. "I'm just going to have to prove you wrong then, aren't I?" She turned around and began to practically _skip _towards the foyer where Finn was waiting for her, only to be stopped when Kurt gently grabbed her arm to hold her still.

"Don't bring Israel into this, Rachel. It won't work," he said, his jaw set in a stern line.

"Believe what you want about people, Kurt," Rachel told him quietly, carefully pulling her arm free of his grasp. "But I'm going to show you that people _do_ care, whether you think they do or not."

She rounded the corner and took her jacket from Finn, who was awkwardly waiting for her in the foyer so they could go home for the night. "Bye, Kurt!" he called over his girlfriend's shoulder as he opened the door to leave.

"Bye, guys," Kurt acknowledged, flinching slightly as Finn slammed the door behind himself and then running a hand over his face. He felt exhausted.

* * *

Sam stuck his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, hunching his shoulders a little against the chilly October wind. His fingers hit the cold plastic of his cell phone and he pulled it out to check again; Quinn hadn't texted him back. Sighing, he dialled the number he had memorised and hoped she'd pick up.

When the ringing stopped and he heard the light click of the phone connecting, he let out a startled breath. "Quinn!" he said excitedly, as though he almost hadn't expected her to actually pick up. "Hi!"

"_Hi,_" came her cold reply. She sure sounded angry.

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Sam sighed and looked both ways, quickly crossing the street. It wasn't a long walk from Kurt's place to his, but it was cold out, and his fingers were going almost numb. He should have worn a jacket. "Look, Quinn, I know you're mad at me," he said quickly, hoping he could get his apology in before she hung up on him. "I don't really know what you're mad at me for, but I'm really sorry I mad you mad—"

"_You don't know why I'm mad at you?_" Quinn asked almost _dangerously_, her voice low and threatening. Sam started to shake his head, but remembered he was on the phone and caught himself since Quinn couldn't actually see him.

"No. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was faking sick—"

"_It's not about you faking sick, Sam. People do that all the time. It's about _why_ you're faking sick._"

Sam frowned. "Huh?"

"_Do you have any idea what it'll look like if everyone finds out you're protesting for gay rights? People will think you're_ gay, _Sam. And then they'll think I'm your _beard_. Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? To yours? You're the Quarterback! You can't just run off to wave around a pride flag. What will people _say_?_"

Sam was almost home, but his feet slowed as he listened to Quinn's angry rant about their reputations. His Nike's dragged along the pavement until he stopped walking all together, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

"It's not about other people. It's about standing up for something you believe in," he argued quietly, looking up as the streetlights switched on silently, illuminating the almost-dusk.

"_This whole thing is ridiculous. Who cares what Figgins thinks? You think this little protest is going to suddenly change his views? It won't. And when you get back to school, everyone will know you participated in this thing and that it failed._" Quinn's tone of voice had gone from dethatched to positively _livid_. "_You're ruining everything we've worked for!_"

"Everything we've worked for?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow and shivering as a strong gust of wind cut through his thin sweater. He started walking again, picking up his pace. "What are you talking about?"

"_Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to get back on top after I fell off the social latter last year? I'm Head Cheerleader again, Sam! And _you_ are my Quarterback boyfriend. We rule the school. If you do this, you'll end up in the sub-basement again! Is that what you want? To get a Slushie facial every morning?_"

"Some things are more important to me than social status. Our _friends _are more important than getting high-fived in the hallway on my way to class or being voted for as Homecoming King!"

"_Sticking up for the gay kid is __not__ more important than Homecoming!_"

Sam froze in mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. "Did you just call Kurt 'the gay kid'?" he asked, a knot of discomfort starting to form in his stomach even as alarm bells started going off in his head. "He's your _friend_."

"_I didn't mean it like that,_" Quinn backtracked quickly. "_Of course Kurt's my friend. He and Mercedes_—"

"Do you go around behind our backs calling Mercedes 'the black girl'?" Sam cut her off, feeling oddly betrayed by her words. This wasn't the sweet, gentle girl he'd started falling for. Was it?

"_No! I wouldn't say something like that. You know I wouldn't._" Quinn's anger had faded into something that sounded like hurt, but it was hard for Sam to tell over the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

"Yeah? Well, I didn't think you'd call Kurt 'the gay kid' either, but I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did, huh?"

"_You don't know _me_?_" Quinn demanded, the fire back in an instant. "_I have never been anything but honest with you. What about you, Sam? When did you become a gay rights activist? I'd have thought that if you loved someone, you would tell them the things that you're passionate about._" Sam could hear Quinn panting through the phone, trying to catch her breath after all of her yelling.

"That's not fair, Quinn," he said quietly, swallowing hard as he turned the corner onto his block.

"_What isn't fair is that I thought I was dating one guy, but apparently I'm dating someone completely different. Are you hiding anything else from me?_"

"Hiding? I'm not— I'm not hiding anything from you," Sam told her, the knot in his stomach twisting just a bit harder. _Liar. _He was honestly surprised that his voice hadn't cracked mid-sentence.

"_Oh, yeah? Then they are you so ready to jump to Kurt's defence and blow off our dates to fake sick for him? Are you gay?_"

"I already told you I'm—"

Quinn cut him off. "—_because the only reason I could think of you doing this is because you_ like_ him. You like him, don't you? Oh, God. I'm dating a gay guy. That's just rich!_" Sam was starting to get really frustrated with his girlfriend. Why couldn't they go back to when it was easy and no one was accusing the other of lying about their sexuality?

"Quinn!" Sam said insistently into his phone, stopping just before his driveway. He could see his mother through the front window, lounging in front of the television watching one of her soaps. The lights in the house were all on except the one in his bedroom window, waiting for him to return.

"_I can't even _believe_ you right now!_"

"What exactly do you want me to say?"

"_I want you to tell me you'll stop being stupid and just come to school tomorrow!_"

"Oh my God. You are being so selfish!" Sam almost spat, his anger and frustration finally reaching a boiling point. "You abandon your friends— the ones who _took you in_ last year— when they need you the most, and you're trying to tell me that I'm a bad person for sticking up for Kurt? Would you abandon me if I told you I was bisexual? Hey, guess what Quinn? NEWSFLASH!"

The dial tone that sounded in his ear not a second later was enough to answer that question.

Sam let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, pulling his cell phone away from his ear and blinking away the prickly sensation of almost-tears. He trudged up the driveway mechanically, opening the front door and automatically climbing the stairs to his bedroom without even saying hello to his mother. He flicked on the light and sat down on his bed, still staring at the screen of his phone that read **QUINN** in big, flashing letters that indicated a disconnected call.

A little whimper escaped his throat and he coughed to try to hold back another, flipping the phone shut and closing his eyes. Oh, _God_. What had he _done_?


End file.
